


Punch Drunk in Love

by idmakeitbehave



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Haunted Houses, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idmakeitbehave/pseuds/idmakeitbehave
Summary: You're lost in a haunted house, hiding from a clown, and ready to lose it when something grabs your arm. You hit them instinctively, only to realize the person you've just punched isn't the clown at all. Oops.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 244





	Punch Drunk in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Two stupid one shots in two days?? Who IS she?? I am a sucker for ridiculous meet-cutes, so if anyone has any requests for me feel free to send them my way :)

You were not scared.

You were not scared. 

You were not scared.

Alright, so you were terrified. And a really goddamn bad liar. You cursed yourself for _ever_ thinking it was a good idea to go to this haunted house with Connor and Ryan. Not only had you been a third wheel to their sickeningly adorable couple from the very beginning, you were fairly certain they had ditched you to go make out somewhere like a pair of lovesick teenagers. 

Now you were alone in this stupid goddamn house. Not even a house, more like a mansion. You were all for Halloween and ghost stories and even true crime, but you had to draw the line somewhere. And it turns out, that line was being abandoned in a ridiculously creepy, actually old as hell, maybe even legitimately haunted mansion.

You crept through the long hallways, muttering under your breath. Of course neither of the boys were answering their cell phones. Very convenient. You had managed to hold yourself together for a little while, but you soon realized you were lost. It didn’t help that you kept hearing footsteps and seeing shadows in your peripheral. This was all a part of the gimmick. You repeated that thought to yourself, but it didn’t help much. Walking through the halls, you passed flickering candles, stupidly realistic ghosts, and someone dressed as an evil clown. That last one did it for you, causing you to turn on your heels and bolt in the opposite direction.

You stood in a darkened corner, completely alone. Even looking around, you couldn’t make out any other guests, much less any creeps in the night. Your entire body was tense, and you had no idea how to get out of this maze of a house. You had just decided to make a run for the next corridor when you heard slow footsteps behind you and quiet breathing. The fucking clown. If it was the fucking clown you were going to _scream_. There was suddenly something touching your arm and you spun around quickly, your hand straight out in front of you. Your fist connected with something hard- not exactly what you had expected upon hitting a clown costume. 

“ _Ow.”_

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the offender, only to realize it was not the clown at all. Standing in the dark in front of you was a tall, lanky man. He was wearing an orange cardigan and an adorable tie dotted with bats, definitely not the outfit of someone trying to terrorize you in a haunted house. You snapped out of your stupor of staring at this handsome man as you realized his hand was holding the side of his face. The face that _you_ had just punched. 

“Holy shit, holy shit. I am _so_ sorry. Oh my god.” You spoke quickly, panicking. You had just punched a random stranger in the face. 

The man laughed quietly as the shock on his face wore away. “It’s okay, it was my fault for sneaking up on you.” He pulled his hand away from his cheek and you saw blood. Your ring. You hadn’t even realized that you had hit him with the hand that was wearing the ring. 

Your mouth dropped at the cut on his face, feeling even more guilty. You rummaged through your bag, pulling out a packet of tissues. “Oh my god,” you repeated. “I am so sorry. Please don’t kill me.” You pressed the tissue to his cheek instinctively to stop the bleeding, only realizing how far into his personal space you were when you heard him inhale sharply. You stepped back, the bloody tissue still in your hand. “Fuck,” you muttered. “I’m doing the absolute worst right now. Let’s start over. I am really sorry for punching you in the face. That was totally not cool of me.”

The man smiled at you before poking his face to assess the damage. He winced slightly but shrugged it off. “I think I’ll live. I’m sorry for startling you. You just- you looked lost. And I thought I would tell you how to get out of here.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. Yes. An escape. “I thought you were that freaking clown.”

The man shuddered dramatically and you laughed at the sight. How could he still be so cute, even with a cut and the beginnings of a bruise on his admittedly sharp cheekbone? “More people are afraid of clowns than climate change, but coulrophobia, the diagnosed fear of clowns, actually only affects about twelve percent of the population. And- climate change is arguably much more dangerous.”

You snorted. “I don’t even think that’s arguable. I think that’s just straight facts. Clowns are just much more visible- and terrifying as hell.”

The man pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, nodding at you as he bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands deep in his pockets. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way. You know, in case you want to put a name to the person that punched you in the face.” 

He chuckled, flashing a toothy grin at you. “Spencer Reid.”

“Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid, owner of the very sharp cheekbone. Now show me that exit.” 

Spencer led you through a series of dark hallways. He never faltered, seemingly absolutely sure of where he was going. At one point there was a sudden noise behind you and you stumbled, grabbing Spencer’s arm in fear. He caught you with his other hand, steadying you. The two of you stared at each other for a second, unblinking, hands still on one another. Then there was a scream from down the hall, and the moment was gone. 

You continued to follow him until you reached the exit. He pushed open the door, letting you out into the chilly night air. You sighed, relieved to be out of that damn house. You sent a quick text to Connor and Ryan- _I’m going home, thanks for ditching me you assholes. Xoxo_

“Hey, Pretty Boy! We’ve been looking for you!” a voice called out, causing Spencer to turn towards it. The owner of the voice walked towards both of you, his eyes widening when he saw Spencer’s face. “Come on now, did you get attacked by a ghost?”

Spencer motioned to you and you waved at the man sheepishly.

“Oh shit. A very pretty ghost,” the man laughed, raising his eyebrows at the two of you before a blonde woman emerged from behind him, carrying a pumpkin in her arms. She looked at Spencer first then at you, doing a double take. Her mouth dropped open before breaking into a smile. 

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering your hand to the man. “You know, the one who punched your friend in the face. I’m going to be embarrassed about it until the day I die.” 

“Now this I have to hear. Derek Morgan. And this is Penelope Garcia.” 

“Hi, hi, hi! I’d shake your hand, but you know- pumpkins!”

You laughed at the two of them, their smiles and enthusiasm infectious. “I was going to buy Spencer here some cider to make up for marring his beautiful face.” Spencer looked at you, startled by your words, and a blush crept on his cheeks. “Care to join us?”

The four of you settled around a picnic table, sipping your hot apple ciders and chatting easily. The wind was cold against your back, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Spencer shifted, draping his cardigan around your shoulders, and you looked up in surprise before smiling shyly at him. Derek and Penelope exchanged a look and grinned at one another before continuing the conversation. You told them what had happened in the house, and the two of them found it absolutely hysterical. Spencer crossed his arms, looking at them with mock-offense as they teased him about it. 

The night grew late, and you soon realized you should probably get home. The others seemed to have the same idea, and they offered you a ride back, seeing as how your idiot friends had abandoned you. You accepted gladly, relieved that you wouldn’t have to call a cab at this hour. 

When they pulled up to your house, Spencer got out the car and walked you to your door. You couldn’t help but smile at his old-fashioned manners. This was absolutely not how you had anticipated this night turning out, but it had somehow been perfect. Well, except for that shiner you left on his cheek.

Spencer looked suddenly nervous as the two of you lingered on your doorstep, not quite wanting the night to end. You rooted through your bag, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. You scribbled your name and number on it before handing it to him. “In case there’s any damage. To your face, I mean,” you quipped, motioning to the paper he held in his hands. 

Spencer looked at you bashfully, letting out a quiet laugh. “What if there isn’t any damage? Can I still use this information?” 

“You better!” you retorted before pressing a quick kiss to his uninjured cheek, his face flushing at the sudden contact. As you stepped through your front door, you turned back to him with a bright grin. “I’m sorry I punched you in the face. But I’m really not that sorry.”


End file.
